Dragon Age: Shattered Champion
by Bombsquad
Summary: One man's conflict with a force that divides his life, his family, his future, and his friends.  For a Hawke, life has never been easy...in Kirkwall...life becomes more harrowing than one could ever expect.
1. Introduction: The Korcari Wilds

**A/N: ****Okay, a part of several ideas that have been kicking around inside my head, I've been trying to finish another play-through of Dragon Age 2, and after a lot of more 'technical' examination of my own writing, I've begun to feel that the DA 2 plot line is very…empty. Empty from a standpoint of a character development situation. Hawke never feels like a character to me, he feels like an Avatar. A strange comment I know, since Hawke really IS an Avatar in a gaming sense. **

**But he just feels like the major aspects of his creation as a character are ignored by the massive gaps in the storyline. You play the character for all of twenty minutes, lose a sibling, then the game skips a year. Spend a couple days in the city to earn some coin, do some jobs, then go on a mission into the deep roads, then skip a few more years, and so on. I've heard reviewers (the more coherent reviewers that go beyond 'IT SUCKS') make the statement that DA 2 lacks connection with the character and an actual over-reaching plot, not to mention driving the character to want an ending that you can't pick.**

**I've decided to give this a shot. I'll be working on this and my Mass Effect story at the same time to keep things straight since sadly for the moment my thoughts are beginning to get jumbled inside my head. To many ideas working against each-other for expression is a good thing and a bad thing…when they start to conflict it is very unfortunate and NOTHING gets written. **

**So a 'release' has become necessary and unavoidable.**

**So I will be taking Hawke on his journey from Ferelden to Kirkwall and into a conflict that is far more personal than one could expect. A conflict that tears a man apart, decimates a family, and forces him to chose what truly matters to his heart and soul.**

**Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you, Dragon Age: Shattered Champion**.

* * *

><p>Prologue: The Korcari Wilds.<p>

The cool dampness of the ground betrayed the light snow which had fallen the night before. It had been a soft flurry that coated the trees and putrid swamplands of the Korcari Wilds in moisture. Light enough to cover the fall of a man's foot in the inhospitable lands, but not heavy enough to sap his strength. To a tracker, it was an excellent type of weather. You could accomplish a great deal when the ground didn't seek to betray your every motion to the enemy. But the man laying atop the slight rise covered by a mottled cloak that was coated with grayish brown mud and sticks didn't care much about moving just yet. He'd lain in place for several hours, blending into the crest of the hill like another clod of dirt. His face rested on the mud, adding to the grime coating it, letting his features blend in with a skill that a Chasind hunter would be jealous of.

The green eyes hid in the shadows of his hood and behind strips of coarse fabric dangling before them, waiting for the figures that he had seen headed this way the day before. He'd been hunting them for hours, watching their progress and waiting for them to stumble into his trap as they meandered through the few safe trails in the Wilds. He'd hunted many such patrols over the days that the army had been encamped at Ostagar, facing the nightmare that was surging from the south. As the first nightmarish form entered his view, the green eyes narrowed and their owner felt the rising tide of bloodlust at the sight of Darkspawn. The hideous forms were easy to pick out with the hidden figure's sharp eyes. Ten of them walking in a shambling formation, two large Hurlocks controlling a smaller group of Genlocks. The man watching them had grown intimately familiar with their forms and their foul names from the few Grey Wardens that he had a chance to speak with before he and his fellow militia had been ordered out into the wilderness.

His first clash with the Darkspawn had left many of his company dead or corrupted, a horrifying experience to face corrupted creatures such as these in close combat was not for the faint of heart…unfortunately, many of the militia were quite faint of heart, but it was hard to expect anything more from farmers who answered their King's call for soldiers to face an evil brewing to the south of them. Many came, and the lucky ones had fled, abandoning their posts guarding the flanks of the main army made up of professional soldiers and knights at Ostagar. The unlucky ones died, either from swords or from the blood corruption of the Darkspawn. He was the only one left of the band that had been given the vast tract of swamplands to patrol and prevent and groups of Darkspawn from slipping through. He was the last, and he was not about to abandon his mission.

He slowly watched the Darkspawn march across the raised section of ground that was flanked on two sides by water. It was an excellent ambush site, and from where he lay they couldn't do anything against him without racing down the long and exposed strip of ground, then up a hill. It was a bad situation, and only the Hurlocks had bows to strike back at him with any ease. The lying figure smiled savagely and his hand shifted from where it had been resting, the warmth of his neck keeping his bow fingers warm and supple. With slow motions that were in time with the gentle breeze blowing through the trees, he moved his other hand onto the grip of his longbow. The slow motions didn't betray his presence, and it gave the Darkspawn time to move into the trap he'd planned…a trap the Darkspawn were oblivious too.

It took the cloaked figure a full minute to slowly move his bow from beneath the covering to the open…and then as he slowly ticked off steps, following the lead Genlock, he slipped an arrow into the string and rose up enough to let his bow flex. Firing a bow while prone was nigh impossible, but the hidden archer had picked his place well. He shielded part of his body with a rock and rotting stump, allowing him enough room to draw the Elven longbow and wait for the last heartbeats to elapse before death could claim the corrupted souls of the Darkspawn.

The first arrow that flew was aimed at the Hurlock who carried his bow in one hand, ready to respond to any attack. But the foul creature couldn't even register shock as the arrow sunk into his throat and sent it tumbling into the foul and frigid water on the other side of the path. His compatriot turned in shock at the fallen corpse and then spun in place, looking for where the arrow had come from. As he turned back to face towards where the hidden archer lay, his turn was met with both the sudden realization of where their attacker was, but the realization was cut short by the arrow that pierced his eye socket and ended his foul existence. With the two Hurlocks dead, the Genlocks looked about, braying out an incoherent challenge to the sky. The archer met that with another arrow, downing another one of the Darkspawn with little effort.

One of the Genlocks turned and ran along the path, trying to keep heading in the direction that they'd been going and the promise of concealment from the archer who was attacking them, but after taking two steps, the Genlock's armored foot hit an empty hole concealed by branches and moss…dropping down with all his weight to impale his foot on spikes lining the bottom. An inhuman squeal cut the swamp, and the grouped Genlocks hesitated for a moment, squandering their best chance at escaping the ambush by hesitating out of fear that another ambush lay in wait for them. Three more fell to arrows as they hesitated, and they the remaining Genlocks turned and ran the way they had come, abandoning their wounded companion in favor of their own survival. As they ran, the hidden archer steadily let arrow after arrow into their midst, leaving a trail of bodies behind them as they raced away. In a calculated move, the archer left the last standing Genlock flee into the swamps, letting it carry the warning to it's brood that there was creeping death this way.

The archer lay back down on the cold ground, watching the impaled Genlock slowly bleed to death as it's screams of pain filled the air. There was no thought to ending the creature's suffering, no consideration for mercy, simply the coldly simple understanding that he would receive less mercy than this if the Darkspawn captured him. The archer was no fool, he knew that alone, fear was his best weapon…fear that was fueled by the pain filled shrieks of a wounded Darkspawn. So he merely laid there, listening to the cries become weaker and weaker, slowly losing their power until silence once more filled the Kocari wilds…it had taken two hours for the beast to die, and now the Archer finally rose from his hiding spot, bundling his longbow and slipping it onto his shoulders, nestled between the twin Elven blades there. He carefully covered the exquisite weapons with his muddy cloak, concealing them from the downpour that had begun. His footfalls were soft and hidden by the rain as he moved down the hill and onto the trail, moving through the bodies and checking each one.

With a short blade, the archer proceeded to remove the heads of each fallen Darkspawn, covering his arms in gore as he proceeded to gather the heads and pile them in a small totem in the middle of the trail. He then heaped the bodies together behind them and poured a small measure of oil on them before striking his blade on a flint, igniting the pile and letting the stench of burning corruption fill the air. The sign was unmistakable, a message to any Darkspawn that came this way…death. Whether the creatures feared it was up for discussion by minds wiser than his…but the Archer knew the ways of the Wilds, and leaving a totem like this was a ritual for many tribes.

He gave the pile of burning corpses one final glance before he left the trail and headed northeast, moving through the wilds with the skill of a wolf. He slipped through the underbrush and trees without hesitation, not fearing that he would stumble across the more dangerous denizens of the Wilds, he knew that most of the creatures that called the Wilds home had fled the trackless wastes for safer lands. The only dangerous creatures in these lands were the Darkspawn now, and he invited a confrontation with them. What he did not expect was the ragged footfalls of someone coming from the north. The Archer reflexively turned and dropped next to a large tree, clinging to it and letting the gray-brown color of his cloak hide him from casual view. Peering around the trunk, he listened intently to the wind and waited, judging the distance of the heavy thumps that carried far in advance of their owner.

The archer leaned out and saw the man running for his life. His tunic was torn, the armor plate he wore was gouged and some missing. Blood streamed down the man's face and his helmet was completely gone. There was no weapon in the man's hands…but it was plain to see, this was a soldier of the King's army, fleeing from something. The archer watched the man run for his life, terror etched on his face. He was tempted to let the man flee, but the archer wouldn't let a deserter flee from the Army when he had been willing to hunt Darkspawn alone. With a single step, the archer stepped from the tree and into the fleeing man's path. So shocked by the appearance of a man from nowhere, the warrior startled back and fell away from the archer, dropping to the ground and trying to crawl back and away.

"Wh-wh-who are you?" The soldier stammered out, the fear in his eyes blazed like a fire. The Archer merely stood silently, looking down at the terrified soldier, taking in the sight of one of the King's picked men at arms cowering in the mud, confused and frightened. Slowly the archer knelt down, examine the torn clothing and battered armor, noticing the subtler details like a ripped off scabbard, glancing blows from blades and arrows…even the corrupted blood of the Darkspawn splashed across his chest plate. The archer slowly decided that this was no deserter. He reached up a hand and slowly pulled away the wrap that covered his face, wiping some mud from around his green eyes to reveal a bright warriors tattoo that seemed to be reminiscent of Elven tattoo artists. A look of concern marred the archer's handsome face that was obscured slightly by several day's growth of beard. His green eyes finally settled on the soldier's fear infused ones, the calm strength in the Archer's doing little to settle the fleeing man's terrified heart.

"Hawke, I'm part of the Lothering militia that was ordered here by the King. My band is gone, wiped out by Darkspawn days ago. Where are you from?" The archer said calmly, his eyes not wavering from the cowering soldier. It was hard for him to remain calm and not start shouting at the frightened man, but Hawke knew that if he started screaming, the broken man would be useless.

"I…I…I was part of the m-m-main army…"

"You were? What happened, are you a deserter?" Hawke asked, being careful not to let the disgust at the thought of desertion creep into his words.

"From what!" The man screamed back at Hawke, and he slowly raised his hands up.

"Calm down man, what happened?"

"Wiped out…all of them…just…just gone…King Cailan's dead…" The man stammered out incoherently. Hawke bit back his tongue for a moment, not wanting to simply scream at the insanity of the man's ravings. Cailan, dead? Impossible, he had the bulk of the Royal Army, militia, men at arms, the Grey Wardens…even the Circle of Magi. How could they have all been wiped out by some Darkspawn Horde? It was impossible.

"Surely…" Hawke began, trying to push back at the insane ramblings of the man.

"I was there you fool! I served six years in the army, do you think I'd run!" The man shouted, and scrambled back to his feet.

"Calm down!" Hawke snapped back, looking up at the soldier.

"The Darkspawn killed the army, killed the King, killed the Wardens, Ferelden is doomed…I'm not staying here…you'll only die if you stay." The man said as a final punctuation to his lines and ran from Hawke. The Lothering Archer stood there, watching the man flee into the wilds, knowing that it was a death sentence for an unprepared man to flee into the endless wastes…but Hawke was no fool, and trying to catch a panicked and unhinged man would do him no good at all. Hawke watched him until he vanished into the undergrowth letting his options play out. His orders had been to block this area, but if there was no army left…and he was the only one left, there was no point for him to stay…and if the army was truly destroyed, they would be headed for Lothering next.

If that were true…his family was next.

Hawke turned and headed north, towards the ruins of Ostagar. He moved faster than the slow stalk he had grown used to over the past few days. Instead, he raced through the woodlands, darting through the trees like a phantom. He leapt over obstacles and around brush, darting here and there with little concern for being seen. There was little time for him to waste and if things were as bad as the man said, there was no time to spare. It was several miles from Ostagar that the fleeing soldier's words began to gain greater weight than the simple fears of a man for his family could ascribe to them. The wounded began to carpet the ground, the wounded and the dead. Both Darkspawn and Human lay scattered about on the ground, most of them simply ignored as the Darkspawn had taken the wounded back to wherever they came from…and the dead…had been fed upon. Hawke slipped through the piles of carrion, slowing his pace for the first time as he saw the walking Darkspawn. His eyes took in the grotesque sight and he struggled forward through the remnants of the battlefield, all the while following the ruins of Ostagar high above. As he reached the pass, Hawke saw the shattered bodies and the remnants of the once proud and capable Ferelden Army. He blinked heavily at the sight of so many dead left upon the field of battle, and knew that fighting the Darkspawn was not like fighting any normal foe, they did not give you the courtesy of collecting your dead, they simply devoured them.

It took a great deal of control for Hawke to remain in the shadows. There were many bodies out there of people he had known in passing, but the sheer size of the destruction kept him from feeling anything other than concern for his family. He could not set names and faces to the bodies that filled the pass, only knowing they were soldiers who had been killed by an enemy that they should not have had to fight. They had fought well, and died well…but this was not the battle that they should have had to fight. But even the Wardens could not have expected this kind of slaughter. The Army had been overwhelmed but there were…too few bodies for it to have been all of it.

Hawke shook off the thought. He was no general, no leader, he was a man who knew the Wilds. He'd done his job and followed his orders better than any could have hoped, but when it was said and done, that didn't matter anymore. None of it did.

Closing his eyes to the slaughter, Hawke turned away and headed north, knowing that the Darkspawn would be heading towards Lothering next, and unless he got there first, his family would be turned to carrion for the Darkspawn. With that thought in his head, Hawke began to run as quickly as he could. He left them all behind, the bodies of strangers and of friends, and the body of his king. All Hawke could do was console himself in the knowledge that there was little one can do for the dead, the living were what mattered. As he left the pass behind, Hawke moved through the ruins of the army encampment, seeing the Darkspawn picking through the remains and making camp amidst the possessions of those they had fed upon. It was hard to imagine any kind of order and direction to the massive hordes that had overrun the Army, even looking at them now they seemed like a group of disorganized scavengers, looting and taking what they wished from the dead. Hawke had heard the whispered words of an Archdemon, a creature feared by even the Grey Wardens. They spoke of it as some kind of commanding force that guided the hordes of Darkspawn, leading them like some kind of general.

As Hawke moved around the camping Darkspawn, moving north along the Imperial Highway, it was hard to think that anything could command the foul creatures.

**A/N:**** Thanks for the spot Kelpy, dunno how that one slipped by me…**


	2. Chapter 1: Lothering and the Blightlands

Chapter 1: Lothering and the Blightlands

The countryside south of Lothering was little different than the Korcari wilds that Hawke felt most at home in. The expansive untamed wilderness seemed to be locked in endless struggle with the villagers who clung to the North Road like a lifeline, trying to coax life from the cold ground surrounding their village. It was not the kind of life that you would want to live in…but Lothering was like many villages throughout Ferelden, one that existed simply because it existed. In times gone by it had been a vital trading post for Ostagar, but with the end of Tevinter rule the importance dwindled…it was just a place that existed. Where people lived toiled and died surrounded by the rough vestiges of the Hinterlands, trading provisions with travelers on the road, and occasionally with the more daring of the Chasind tribes.

Hawke never relished his home, never wanted to spend much time in a village of a few hundred living in hovels that surrounded a Chantry. As hostile as the Hinterlands were, they held a draw that clutched his very soul. But a mere draw could not replace the fear that engulfed him. The sights he had seen in the ruins of Ostagar were easily warped by his own imagination to see his family lying dead. What was harder was finding reason to be concerned for the others in his village. For Hawke, they were simply an afterthought…if they lived or died he wouldn't care, if his family met the fate of Cailan's Army then he would never forgive himself.

The intimacy with the wilderness worked to his advantage. Hawke's course carried him through the hills far from the Imperial Highway. It was as much a crumbling ruin as the fortress of Ostagar, but he didn't avoid it because of the structures' decay…he avoided it because even though the bulk of the Darkspawn horde had hesitated at Ostagar, the first tendrils of the corrupted wave were reaching north towards Lothering and the heart of Ferelden. Hawke had been racing for two days, on his feet with only his thoughts for company. He knew he was exhausted, he knew his body needed sleep and rest…but the only thing he could provide was a few swallows of water, and the chance sights of the crumbling Tevinter road that ran north-south. The glimpses of the road had slowly given him more hope, but even knowing that the leading Darkspawn were perhaps a few hours behind him was little comfort. Every time he thought that he could take a rest, the vision of his family butchered like cattle pressed in on his thoughts.

And every time he forced himself to move faster.

His legs burned, every breath brought with it daggers of pain through his chest, but he drove himself on. Many hills left him staggering on hands and knees. After two days of pushing himself, it was a miracle that seemed given to him by Andraste herself that he could even move. But Hawke didn't bother himself with giving thanks to the prophet of the Maker as he forced himself forward. He couldn't spare the breath to pray.

It was noon on the third day of his running that he found himself confronted with the familiar vista of his village. At first his fatigue clouded mind seemed to deny the very existence of the village, the small stone and wood huts surrounded by farmlands was almost a delusion in his mind. Hawke knew that normally the journey from Ostagar to Lothering took five days, he'd managed it in barely three and a half. He staggered slightly and braced his weight against a tree, his hand gripping the coarse bark for the comfort of the tactile. The exhausted warrior sucked in air, savoring the sensation of standing still for precious seconds. As Hawke held himself up by the quick of his fingers he looked down at Lothering, examining it for the first time since he'd left weeks before at the behest of the King's sergeants as they'd called the Militia. His keen eyes saw the lack of farmers working the fields, and several of the open plots had been replaced by tents and scant hovels giving protection from the elements. He looked along the Main Road that ran along the village and saw a mass of people marching along it in a disorganized mob. It wasn't hard to guess just what they were, the village was leaving.

It was a small mercy for Hawke, his family was leaving. He didn't have to worry, all he had to do was head into the village, gather what might be left of his own scant belongings and find his family in the refugees. Then…

Hawke frowned as he forced himself to start down the hill, he hadn't considered just what might be next after he found his family. That was…not his responsibility. Hawke's jaw tensed at the very thought of being responsible for his family. A burden left to him by his father that he'd never wanted…a connection to his family that had been nebulous for him. With a glance back to the south and the prospect of approaching Darkspawn who were scant hours away, he cut down through the fields and headed towards the village at a run.

Lothering was empty, abandoned by everyone who held land, the approaching Darkspawn had overcome the usual Ferelden desire to protect one's land at all costs. Doors hung wide and abandoned possessions lay scattered in the muddy streets. Even the Chantry had been abandoned, the doors hanging open and the interior devoid of any idols of the Maker. As Hawke jogged through the street, he headed for the home his family shared, passing by an overturned cart with a snapped wheel that lay in the middle of the street. Hawke wondered idly if the Templars had fled with the Priests, abandoning the Village. Hawke scowled at that bitter thought, and wouldn't have felt any measure of surprise if they had. He made his way across the bridge going through town and cast a forlorn glance at Dane's Refuge, even from the outside, the Tavern seemed desolate without even glimpsing the interior. Hawke turned and moved to the outskirts of the village furthest from the Chantry and set next to the raised bulk of the West Road. Despite the abandoned village and the approaching Darkspawn, it seemed more inviting now than it ever had before.

Hawke shook off the startling feeling and walked up to the door, closing his eyes and leaning on the doorframe as he pushed the rough plank door open. He sighed and relished the familiar scent of his home for a moment before he was jerked from his indulgence.

"Garrett!" His mother's voice called in shock. Hawke's eyes snapped open and he turned his head looking into the common room that resided to the side of the entry hall. The room was a kitchen and dining area that was the same as most Ferelden homes. His mother rose from where she had been sitting and brushed past the surprised forms of Bethany and Carver, her arms wrapping around his broad shoulders and cloak. Despite the shock at seeing them, he couldn't push his mother away, instead he held her tight and pushed away the dark thoughts that had filled him during his flight from Ostagar. They were safe, and as he looked at his brother and sister, the slight smile that flicked across his features was as obscure an expression to them as it was to him.

"You're…alive. Thank the maker, you're alive." Bethany managed, shocked at the sight of her brother standing there, covered in grime and mud, looking as if he was one step from death.

"We thought you were dead. Mother insisted you were alive, but we thought you'd died at Ostagar…" Carver said, dazed at the sudden arrival of his older brother.

"A mother knows…a mother always knows." Leandra said with a soft smile, finally pulling away from her son and stroking the side of his grimy face gently.

"I…" Garrett managed, floundering slightly at the concern of his family. It was…strange. He'd never been met with such an inviting reception by his family. Even though death was bearing down on them from the south, it was hard to ignore the feeling of warmth that he had.

"By the Maker, brother…you look a sight…" Carver managed, his voice holding an edge to it, but Hawke let it go. It wasn't much of a shock to Garrett, he'd been eager enough to leave his family and head south with the Army…and forced Carver to stay behind and watch Bethany and mother.

"I ran for three days to get here. The Darkspawn are right behind me. We need to leave." Hawke said, glancing away from his family and out the door as if he expected to see Hurlocks and Genlocks stalking down the streets.

"We waited for you." Bethany said, her voice as sharp as Carver's, sharp enough the Leandra glanced at her with a frown.

"You should have left long ago. You could have been days away from this." Hawke snapped, his voice was angry and his eyes betrayed a growing sense of rage. His family shouldn't be here…they could have left long ago, there was nothing keeping them.

"We weren't going to leave you Garrett. I knew you would come back." Leandra said solemnly, her eyes were pleading, and the unspoken words came to Garrett without any doubt, now wasn't the time.

"You're mad at us for waiting for you? Honestly? We should have left after what we heard about the battle, we thought you were dead." Carver snapped back, his voice angry as he stepped towards his brother. Leandra moved between the two.

"Not now! Not now of all times!" She said, looking back and forth between her sons. Carver's eyes betrayed rage, rage that was barely contained by his mother's words. Garrett's eyes merely held the cold anger of a man who knew there were more pressing things to worry about. Bethany walked up to Carver and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked back at his sister and took a breath before he spoke.

"You have a damn lot of nerve coming back here and berating us for waiting for you. We should have left you to fend for yourself." Carver growled, but didn't press any further.

"I'd be better off on my own." Garrett spat in reply, and shook his head at his brother's words, then turned back towards the door. He wasn't sure how it had gotten here, but then it had always been easier for him to leave than it had been for him to stay…the door was there, and he could vanish away from this.

"Damn it Garrett! We need to stay together!" Bethany snapped back as her hand tightened on Carver's shoulder to hold him back slightly. Both of them had noticed their mother flinch sharply at Garrett's words, but to him, it had gone unnoticed. The rogue stood there, his teeth gritted slightly as he looked at his siblings and his mother…forcing back the anger at what this reunion had turned into and instead he took a deep breath.

"You're right Bethany. We do need to leave, the Darkspawn are coming." He said after a long moment. He turned back from the door and looked at his family.

"We know, the entire village has fled, we're all that's left. When Loghain came from Ostagar with the remnants of the Army, he told us that King Cailan died on the field, betrayed by the Wardens. Is it true?" Carver asked.

"I don't know. The Militia was deployed on the Flanks to guard against Darkspawn trying to surround the army or slip by. I didn't even know that the main battle had happened until I saw a deserter fleeing the carnage. I…I didn't see any survivors." Garrett said with an eerie detachment to his voice, he sounded far-away as the words were spoken. He knew he'd never forget the image that he'd seen as he'd passed the remains of the King' demise. With more effort than he liked, he shook his head as the sight of the pass pushed back into his thoughts, and realized that the vision of his family lying dead could still find a place in reality. The rogue opened his eyes and saw the concern on his Mother's face.

"Enough talk, we need to join the refugees heading along the Road." Carver said firmly, walking past Hawke and looking out the door.

"No." Garrett said simply as his brother passed. His younger sibling's head turned back and the expression on his face betrayed no hint of understanding…or of courtesy.

"You just told us that you'd do better on your own, so excuse me for not seconding myself to your judgment, _brother._" Carver said, his voice brittle.

"The Darkspawn are mere hours behind us, if we're lucky. Following the refugees makes us a target. The Darkspawn are mindless beasts for the most part. They'll descend on the fleeing villagers in force. If we head along the mountains we can slip outside the reach of the grasp of the Darkspawn. Once we're safe, we can decide what we're going to do." Garrett said with a calm that he didn't really feel. His eyes narrowed as Carver glared back at him and he wondered if this would become another argument. Carver didn't press the matter, he merely sighed and nodded.

"Do we have everything that we need?" Garrett asked, stepping out into the muddy road again and looking south towards the hills. It was clear of Darkspawn, but ominously dark clouds were filling the skies from the south and Hawke didn't want to consider just what they might mean other than something evil.

"Yes. We're ready, we were only waiting on you." Leandra said and stepped out after Garrett. Behind her, Bethany and Carver hesitated for a long moment, their eyes glancing around their home one last time before following. Garrett looked back at them as they stepped out into the road then started walking towards the east, away from the Tevinter road and towards the Hinterlands. Hawke gazed up at the sun hanging in the skies above, obscured by the hazy clouds. They had a few hours of good daylight left, but it would be a mistake to try and camp. They would have to keep moving, whether they were tired and exhausted or not. Wearily, he rubbed his gloved hand across his face, sighing with exhaustion that had been near constant for days…but knowing he could not banish it yet.

"What happened at Ostagar?" Carver asked from behind him as they made their way through the village and into the fields beyond. Garrett looked over his shoulder and then back ahead of them.

"I don't know. I was hoping that you could tell me." Garrett replied as he moved along, forcing himself to try and keep an even stride that his family could match without struggling.

"Teyrn Loghain passed through the village with part of the army. An announcement was made that the King was dead at the hands of the Darkspawn and the Army was defeated. He said that it wasn't a Blight and the Grey Wardens had betrayed the King, killing Cailan. He didn't say anymore. But after he left, the refugees from the south began streaming north, they knew the Darkspawn were coming." Bethany supplied.

"Grey Wardens would never have betrayed the King. It's ludicrous." Garrett answered back.

"Is it? They were exiled from Ferelden for trying to overthrow King Arland. King Maric let them back into Ferelden after two centuries of exile, you think they wouldn't try it again?" Carver said darkly.

"Its insane, I saw the Darkspawn…if it wasn't a blight, then there's no way that they would be moving in such large numbers. What is that fool doing…" Garrett said grimly as they walked out of the farmlands and into the hills to the east of the village.

"I don't know, he left soldiers behind for any Wardens that might have survived. Two passed through the village. I don't know what happened, but there was a fight in Dane's Refugee…" Bethany said.

"I saw the Wardens and listened to them teaching us about the Darkspawn. They're dangerous warriors. If they survived the battle, then they must be formidable indeed." Garrett said, and hesitated on the hill, looking back at the village of Lothering one last time. As he paused, his mother stopped next to him and looked back. For Garrett, it was strange. He didn't feel loss at having to flee the village, it was a place to him…not somewhere that he had truly felt a connection to…but there was something about leaving that saddened him.

"I know Garrett." She said softly and Garrett turned and looked confused for a moment before his face hardened.

"Let's keep moving." He said finally, brushing off the sadness and pressing on, leaving his mother looking at his back as he kept marching.

Three days they strode to the east, three long days broken by barely any kind of rest. Sleep snatched in a spare moment, little food other than morsels from their bags and a few roots and strips of barely edible bark that Garrett could grab. They didn't dare camp for the entire night, to remain in one place would have cut the lead that they had on the Darkspawn, and Garrett pressed his family hard to get away from the evil that seemed to be following them in a flood. Twice in the past three days he'd glimpsed what he thought were Darkspawn behind them, and the ashen complexion and creeping dread that filled his eyes was enough to make his family move faster. Dawn found them in a world that seemed as alien to them as the bottom of the sea or the Deep Roads of the old Dwarven Empire.

It was as if the Darkspawn had poisoned the lands with their very presence. The hinterlands to the east had never been thriving with life or very inviting to anyone but the most rugged and self reliant. But it had it's own beauty to it. Without a doubt, there was life, forests and growth, it was a place that was home to animals. But now, it seemed to merely be rolling hills of sickly red earth devoid of any plant or creature. A haze hung over the dead ground, a pall that seemed as oppressive as a thick blanket and hurt the lungs to breath.

"What form of evil could do this?" Bethany said mournfully as she surveyed the lands surrounding them. She turned in a slow circle, looking back the way they'd came. In the few beads of dull sunlight, it wasn't hard to see how they'd managed to wander into this desolate land without knowing. Hawke had lead them along a line of rocks that broke the ground along the sides of the Lothering Mountains. He was kneeling down and touching the ground softly.

"A terrible one…that's for certain." Carver said grimly, stepping up to his brother and looking down as his older sibling slowly touched the ground. Neither one spoke, but the animosity that hung in the air between them was palpable. Leandra stepped forward and looked out across the ground.

"Where are we going Garrett?" She asked, for the first time since they'd left Lothering. No one had contemplated just where this mad dash might end up. The terror of the encroaching Darkspawn had made any kind of deeper contemplation of their destination something that they could ill afford, any diversion could prove lethal. But standing here surrounded by blight lands, it was hard not to think of somewhere else. A place they could go to that might be safer than this.

"Away." Garrett responded, not looking up, but pressing his fingers into the ground and feeling it.

"But where? If all of Ferelden will turn into this…we can't stay. We need to leave, we need to go somewhere." Bethany said, stepping up to her mother.

"I've no idea. I'm more concerned with us living to see another dawn Bethany." Garrett replied tersely, then stood up, looking to the east of them.

"What is it?" Carver asked. The two brothers were not friends, and Garrett was under no illusions otherwise. Carver was brash and bold, the kind of man that their father had respected and encouraged him to be. Even though he didn't posses Bethany's gift with the Arcane, father had always been proud of him. Proud of his son's skill with a blade, his strength and his loyalty to his family. All things that Garrett had never been able to fulfill 'properly' in their father's eyes. Garrett was perceptive and subtle, isolated and self reliant, the kind of man who didn't relish the weight on his shoulders. It was a strange contrast, one brother angry at the weight placed on his shoulders as the eldest, the other angry at not being respected by his father. But neither one doubted the other's abilities. Carver was no fool, he knew that his rogue of a brother had found something.

"Two people came this way. One in heavy plate, probably Templar. The other lightly attired. They're as exhausted as we are, and we're close at their heels. Close enough to catch them I think." Garrett said simply, rubbing his hands clean and glancing at his brother.

"And father said you playing in the dirt would never come to anything." Carver said and Garrett was surprised at the slight smile on his brother's lips. It was something that he had rarely seen from his younger sibling, and Garrett couldn't help but step back as if his brother had drawn a blade on him.

"What?" Garrett asked, on guard.

"I'm…glad you came back." Carver said simply and turned away.

"Kirkwall." Leandra said from behind the pair, and they both looked back at her and Bethany.

"Kirkwall?"

"We can go there. We've family there, my family were nobility. It's as good a place as any and we could do worse." Leandra explained.

"That's in the Free Marches. It'll take ages to get there." Carver said.

"You know what they say about a journey of a thousand steps." Garrett replied to his brother's skepticism.

"They can get you killed but you'll be tired at the end?" He replied and they all laughed. For the first time since before the battle of Ostagar, since long before the last time they'd all been together, they all laugh at that one flippant bad joke together. Garrett chuckled softly, and once more felt that sensation of comfort filling him. For one moment frozen in time he wondered if this was how their family should have been.

Or how it could be.

"Kirkwall then?" He said and saw the nods of his family in response. It felt rather odd that they were accepting his lead. Something that he'd never Strange the things you can realize when you're surrounded by dead lands and have the prospect of death hanging over your head. Garrett's chuckle ended and he nodded.

"Then let's go. I don't fancy staying here one bit." Bethany said and they set off again. The moment of levity gone, but the feeling that they were a family fleeing the blight rather than just four souls who were bound by blood who were heading in the same direction. They hiked their way down the ridge and Garrett led the way much as he had for days before. But things were more tense than they had been. The mark of the blight on the lands was a grim reminder of what they were fleeing. It was hard to think of anything but the Darkspawn that were lurking out in the wastes, so the small and happy moment fell by the wayside. But Garrett's mind didn't drift far, instead his sharp eyes picked out the track of the footprints left in the ashen ground. Every step brought them closer to those who'd gone before, and Garrett was interested in those who'd chosen this path. As he crested another small ridge, he heard the sound that sent a chill through his spine. In one motion he crouched and his hands grabbed the elven longbow on his back. In a smooth motion, he notched an arrow and held it ready. Carver followed a second later, the two handed great sword he wore across his back out and in his hands.

"Darkspawn?" He asked in a whisper, and Garrett nodded in response. A glance back told him that Bethany and their mother were watching and crouched down, both looking up curiously. With a gesture Garrett motioned for both of them to stay where they were. Garrett closed his eyes and listened to the sounds. The lack of any animals made it rather easy to pick out the cries of the Darkspawn over the faint rushing of the wind. Soft sounds of rustling armor and the general grunts and cries that the horrific creatures emitted were there…but something more human was cutting the air.

"We've found them." Was all Garrett said as he rose up from where he crouched and moved over the crest of the ridge, looking down at the sight before him. Two figures were surrounded by Darkspawn, a whirling mob of them that was clearly intent on closing in for the kill. One of the figures wore simple padded leather armor that was commonplace amongst the King's militia, the woman clad in it fought far better than any militia soldier. Her blade sliced through the air, ripping apart Darkspawn with what seemed to be a divine fervor. Her companion wore the heavy plate of the Templars, his blade was slower than the woman's, but he fought with grinding force, hammering with shield and slicing with sword. The Darkspawn were dancing around them, not keen to close in on the deadly pair…the bodies of their fallen kin enough warning that trying to match blades with these humans would be a problem.

As Garrett pulled back the arrow on his bow and aimed at the Darkspawn, Carver let out a loud warcry and rushed down the hill. The surprise didn't faze the Darkspawn, half of whom turned and started rushing towards the newest arrivals in the battle. The pair who were surrounded however, looked up at the unexpected salvation that had arrived. It was a single slip.

But in battle, the single slip can result in horrible death.

One of the Darkspawn lunged, and his wicked blade wrested apart steel and sliced through the flesh of the Templar's arm. The figure recoiled and fell to the ground, weapon fallen and the warrior vulnerable. Without question, death would have followed, but the Templar's companion hurled herself onto one of the encroaching Hurlocks who thought that he had found easy prey. Garrett could appreciate the woman's aggression as she fought with the corrupt creature…but as one of it's companions rose up with a blade poised to be buried in the woman's back. Garrett let his arrow fly with all the ease of a man lining up for a shot on a range. There was no hurried speed to the shot, no loss of his focus or even the slightest bit of urgency. Such was the mind of a master archer, and as the shaft flew from his bow, he did not pause to see if it found it's mark. His fingers were already stroking the fletching of the next arrow, bringing it to the string of his bow and drawing it back for his second shot.

Below, the arrow found it's park through the Darkspawn's eye, dropping the foul creature to the ground. The woman rose, sword in hand and snatched up the Templar's shield, moving to stand between the fallen templar and the Darkspawn who looked to be more surprised than afraid by their dead member. Between the crest where Garrett stood and the surrounded templar and his companion, Carver had leapt into combat without hesitation. Hawke cast a glance as he let another arrow fly and watched as Carver sliced two Darkspawn in half and buried his claymore into a third before they could move closer to him. Garrett had never seen his brother fight before this, but there was no hesitation or uncertainty in his sibling's movements. Merely the sure and steady maneuvers of someone who was an expert at the art of killing.

"Garrett! Down!" Came Bethany's voice from behind him and without thinking, the rogue dropped face down on the ground. He felt the flames erupt behind him, and the visceral screeches of dying Hurlocks found his ears. His nostrils were filled with the horrid stench of immolated flesh. After a moment, he rose and saw that two of the creatures had been closing on him. But more worrisome, there were others closing on Bethany and their mother from the direction they'd come. Many more.

"Bethany! Take them!" He cried, pointing behind his sister, and in one motion, she spun with her staff twirling and sending wreaths of flame around her body. Garrett didn't hear the words, and he could never tell if his sister made any incantations to summon the ethereal powers she commanded. But the effect was unmistakable. In a cone before her, flames erupted. Incinerating the closest Darkspawn so fast that all that was left of them was ash encrusted plate and twisted bones. Those behind them fell or fled from the barrier of flame that had materialized before them. It was an awesome display of the arcane, but something that was nothing exceptional for his sister. She slowly backed away from the barrier of flames, the Darkspawn that had been following them backing away from it. Garrett turned back and saw the tumbled remains of the Hurlocks who'd attempted to waylay Carver. His brother had pressed on and aided the pair of warriors. It had lasted less than the time it took to walk up a flight of stairs, but the small battle was over for the moment.

Garrett eyed the Hurlocks moving about behind Bethany's barrier, and then motioned for his sister and mother to follow him. With a last glance at the Darkspawn behind them, he darted down the hill and to where Carver stood with the wounded Templar and his companion.

"We have you to thank, don't we?" The woman asked, kneeling next to the Templar and examining his wounded arm. The warrior's helmet was off and he looked pale, very pale. The red haired woman did not look up as she spoke, instead she was focused on the bloody wound her companion had sustained.

"I suppose you might thank fate or chance rather than me personally. You've met my brother Carver I expect, my name is Garrett, and this is Bethany and our mother Leandra." Garrett supplied as his mother and sister joined them. Bethany hovering slightly back from them, the sight of the Templar laying wounded putting her on edge more than the Darkspawn had.

"Apostate…" The Templar said, his unwounded hand raised and for a moment he struggled to rise up and shake off his companion's care.

"Wesley, calm yourself. They saved us."

"The Maker does have a sense of humor doesn't he?" Bethany responded acidly, her eyes looking back up at the crest of the hill, her staff still in hand.

"Yes…he does, but such as it is, we've got a larger issue than Chantry policy enforcement, don't we? The Darkspawn don't care too much about who's a mage and who's a Templar." Garrett said, his voice cool as he looked down at the wounded Templar.

"The Darkspawn is simple in it's goals, but the Mage is always a mystery." Wesley said tiredly as his companion wrapped his bleeding arm in cloth.

"They saved us, the Maker understands." The woman said tiredly.

"We don't really have time for this…there are Darkspawn in these hills, and I'm sure that Bethany's trick up there won't hold them for long." Garrett said simply, looking at the woman. Her eyes looked away from the Templar for the first time, and he could see the determination in them. It was enough to make him startle, he had rarely seen that kind of fire in someone's gaze.

"I'm Aveline Vallen, and this is my husband Ser Wesley. We're both grateful for your aid. We'd be dead without it." Aveline said, gripping the Templar, her husband, by his unwounded arm and helping him to his feet. The strength that the woman possessed was another small surprise, Templar armor was heavy enough for the wearer, but the power the woman commanded was enough to pull him to his feet with little more than a grunt of effort.

"Can you move? We may have to move quickly…" Garrett said, and before he could ask, Bethany spoke up.

"Very quickly, that barrier won't last forever…it's draining enough now." She said tiredly, rubbing her hand across her forehead. The effort of maintaining such a wall of flame was not something that she practiced often and Garrett could see her beginning to weaken from the effort. Garrett winced inwardly at that, now they'd have a wounded man and a weakened mage. Neither one was good, but together it could mean death. He silently cursed the turn of fate, he could leave Aveline and her husband behind, letting them tie up the Darkspawn and give them time to make it away. But if he did that…something told him that the pragmatic act of leaving behind two so that four could live would not sit well with him.

"Alright, then let's move. We're headed east. Hopefully we can make it out of these blighted lands and try to escape the reach of the Darkspawn."

"It won't work, we were heading east ourselves, the Darkspawn are thick there. There's no chance of us getting through." Wesley said weakly.

"He's right. The people escaping from Lothering and the refugees drew the Darkspawn east. We were traveling with them and were separated. There's no telling how many of these creatures were lured after the caravan before fanning out into the countryside. We found this and…it's like the Darkspawn have tainted the land itself." Aveline said.

"If we can't go east, we've come from the west, and the north is the West Road…then there's only one route open to us. The south." Garrett said grimly.

"The south? Into the Korcari wilds? Are you mad?" Carver said in shock.

"I don't like it either, alright?" Garrett snapped back sharply and saw his brother's glare, then Garrett weakened slightly. "I don't. I know how dangerous the Wilds are, remember? I am the aimless wanderer of the family, and I've done plenty of wandering through them. They're dangerous, but then so is staying here."

"I…alright brother…" Carver said, surprised at the conciliatory tone that came from his brother.

"Let's go. Please." Bethany said, and Leandra took her arm gently. There was little more to be said. With Leandra helping Bethany walk while she maintained the barrier keeping the Darkspawn behind them at bay, and with Aveline half carrying Wesley, the party turned south, making their way down what might have been a creek wash at one point, but now was simply the same reddish soil that had seemed to spread across the land. Garrett was in the lead, followed close by Carver. It was an odd collection but they moved as fast as they could, eyes searching the desolate hills for Darkspawn, and casting a worrying glance to the two slowly weakening members of their party, Bethany and Wesley. It was almost an hour before Bethany's strength gave out and she slumped slightly.

"The barrier's gone…I don't know how many are out there…but they're out there." She said, oddly stronger than a mere moment before. The weight of maintaining the barrier was lifted from her shoulders. But as one of their party grew in strength, another slowly weakened. Wesley's strength had waned with every step, leaving Aveline more and more weight to carry on her own. Even as Carver gingerly took Wesley's injured arm to help carry him, Garrett began to suspect that there was more at play than a simple wound.

"Leave me…I…am only slowing you…" Wesley croaked feebly from between Aveline and Carver.

"No. I won't leave you to die here." Aveline said firmly, and Garrett heard the edge to her voice. It was clear that if she had to, she'd carry her husband to the Amaranthine sea herself if it came to that. Carver looked across at her and chuckled.

"Now, don't be so morbid. I didn't carry you all this way just to let you give up and lounge about in this lovely place." Carver said jovially, but the worried glance he cast to his brother spoke of a concern that mirrored Garrett's. There was no doubt in his mind that Wesley had the taint of the Darkspawn in his blood. The signs were clear to him from the small amount of information imparted to him from the Grey Wardens at Ostagar. Blood was the key to the taint, and it could easily corrupt you if you were exposed to it. There was no cure, no treatment, and no way to slow it. But Garrett didn't have the heart to tell Aveline or Wesley what was happening to him. The concern that filled Aveline's voice as she'd spoken and reassured him while she was half carrying him, the softness in her voice, the fact that she was willing to carry a man in plate armor across broken ground was testament to her devotion to her husband.

"Can we rest for a moment?" Aveline asked, and Garrett looked back the way they'd come. It was clear, for now.

"Alright…not for long though." He said finally. Aveline and Carver gratefully lowered Wesley down to the ground, propping him against a rock while the others sat. Garrett walked up a small rise and sat down, his eyes taking in the countryside as he rested. He hadn't really slept for days now…and the allure of sleep was powerful, especially with the creeping tendrils of drowsiness that reached to his mind. The rogue began to think of how lovely it would be to simply sleep, to drop off into oblivion and not wake until his body said that it was ready. He touched the ground idly and thought of how lovely it would be to lie there…

"I saw you at Ostagar." Aveline said from near him. Garrett's eyes snapped open, and he cursed softly that he'd allowed himself to drop off towards the welcome oblivion of sleep so easily. He looked up at the crimson haired woman standing before him and Garrett's eyes took in the small details he hadn't noticed. Her eyes were green like his oddly enough, her face had a soft beauty to it that was covered in freckles. Her sword was worn but well cared for, very well cared for. The armor looked to be little more than standard militia attire at a distance, but he could tell that it was more protective, and more flexible than any commoner would have. Wearily, Garrett forced his mind to focus more, the lack of sleep and fatigue were working on him…keeping his mind from focusing.

"Yes. I was one of the flank scouts. Killing Darkspawn in the swamps to keep them from moving into the encampments." Garrett said.

"I remember you, you didn't spend much time with the other Militia." Aveline said, and sat next to Garrett, her eyes locked on Wesley as he coughed lightly.

"No. I'm not a people person." He said, remembering how the other Militia had looked at him. The grim expression and dour mood driving away many who wanted to see killing Darkspawn as merely a fanciful game and buying in completely to Teyrn Loghain's declaration that it wasn't a real blight. He remembered how most had ignored the lectures from the Grey Wardens, laughing about how they'd' simply kill them and not worry about the filthy creatures.

"You saw this for what it was. Like me." Aveline said. She glanced over at him.

"I try. 'This' could get me killed. I'd prefer that not happen." Garrett replied, blowing on his hands and rubbing them together to keep from looking at Aveline.

"Then why help us?" She asked, and Garrett kept looking at his hands. That was a question that he couldn't answer himself. It was a foolish move to help a pair of travelers who they knew nothing about. Especially when one was a Templar. But he'd acted without hesitation, coming to the aid of two total strangers when it didn't benefit him in the slightest…when in fact it put them in greater peril.

"Why do you ask that?"

"I'm no fool. Your sister's a mage. Rescuing a Templar is some sick joke from the family of an Apostate." Aveline said sharply enough that Garrett looked over at her.

"Apostates. My father was a mage, and yes, Bethany is one as well. Should I care that your husband is a Templar? I've never bothered myself with magic. My sister's a mage, my father was a mage. I'm not. I know they have to hide their gifts and talents, otherwise they'll be enslaved by the Circle." Garrett said, and stared into Aveline's green eyes, his jaw tight to keep him from saying more.

"Thank you." Aveline said finally.

"For what? Saving you and your husband?" Garrett asked with a sigh.

"No, for saving me specifically. I saw the first one you killed, the one that was about to stab me. I'm no fool Hawke, I owe you my life. The least I can do is say thank you." Aveline said.

"We're not safe yet Aveline. We won't be until we stand in Kirkwall."

"Kirkwall? I'm not going there. Wesley needs help, we need a healer." Aveline replied.

"He won't make it Aveline." Garrett said quietly, not looking at her, but instead looking at her husband. He didn't se the warrior's head snap around and stare at him, her mouth working in silent outrage

"You lie." Was the only thing that Aveline could choke out.

"No. You know why as well." Garrett said solemnly, finally looking at her and flinching away from the rage that burned in her eyes.

"It's not the taint. It's not." She said firmly.

"You heard the same words from the Wardens as I did. You can see it. That's no wound draining his life, it's the Darkspawn's corruption working on him. Taking him for one of their own…" Garrett said, sadness in his words. It was hard for him to speak to someone like this…it was especially hard knowing he was talking about the death of someone to the person they loved more than their own life.

"I refuse to accept that. If it is the taint, there has to be something that can be done. I refuse to let him die from that corruption." Aveline said, standing up and walking a few steps before Garrett spoke.

"Aveline. I'm merely telling you the truth. I won't decide his fate." Garrett said and Aveline turned, the fire in her eyes seemed to flicker between anger and defiance.

"Good. It's not your place to decide anyone's fate Hawke." She said and walked away, leaving Hawke sitting alone and looking at his family, and wondering idly if he could ever decide anyone's fate other than his own without doubting himself. He'd become the leader of this group…somehow. His family looked to him for guidance, but he didn't know why. He was better at taking care of himself than he ever was at taking care of others. That was the reason that he preferred to be alone in the wilds and hinterlands rather than at home with his family, no matter how much they might need him.

But they needed him now to save their lives more than they needed him then to keep them company. Garrett sighed softly and looked around the hills, still scanning for Darkspawn and casting the occasional glance at his family, and Aveline and her Husband. Garrett was almost becoming used to being concerned for other's well beings, but it was still…different. With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes and stood up.

"We need to keep moving, the Darkspawn won't be resting nearly as often as we are." He said, and watched as his family stood, and Aveline and Carver lifted Wesley from where he lay. Without a word, Garrett turned and started walking. More steps on the long path that had a beginning and an end, but in between there seemed to be little but wandering.

* * *

><p><strong>AN****: Hello all, an AN after the chapter for this. I'm taking Hawke in a radically different direction from the game. My intention for the character is to see him more as a person who grows into the role of Champion of Kirkwall. In the game he feels like a leader by default. There's no unease with it, no discomfort. He's just there for anyone who needs it. I thought that it might be better to follow the role of someone who doesn't want it. Someone who can barely bond with their own family, let alone an assortment of people that run the gauntlet from mages to thieves to warriors to storytellers.**

**That's my intention anyway. If it happens, we'll see. I'm writing a character driven story with this rather than an event driven story like my Mass Effect idea. It's very different and it's the first time I've attempted to do so over a long term story. So we'll see how it goes.**


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